The Wizarding World's Next Top Model
by whennothinggoeswrite
Summary: You know you want to read it. Go ahead. Hermione and Ginny are in The Wizarding World's Next Top model. Friendship, Romance, Fierceness, Smizing, and of course, dreckitude!


**Welcome message: So hi you guys! Please excuse me if you think my idea's horrible. I just had the urge. I mean, who doesn't love wand-wielding supermodels? Anyway, I hope you like it, and please leave me comments on how to improve. :] Dedicated to Marsha, Miki, and Celina. 3**

**Of course, JK Rowling's characters are not mine, and Tyra Bank's concept is not at all claimed by me. :]**

_Chapter One: The Audition_

"A modeling competition? For witches? You can't be serious." With an annoyed huff, Hermione Granger threw down the laminated poster in disgust. _How can the Ministry even allow something as sexist and unnecessary as this? They're wasting valuable time and money on a reality competition show. Aimed at young girls still in school, no less. _Hermione's best friend, Ginny Weasley, had shown her the colourful flyer only moments ago, and she already knew the entire thing would end horribly.

"Oh, come off it, Hermione," Ginny sighed. "You know how lucrative the modeling business can be for wizards and witches."

Hermione raised her eyebrows at her old friend. "Hardly. I've never even heard of the "lucrative modeling business" until now. How popular can it be?"

This whole thing was ridiculous to Hermione. She had heard about it in the hallways, whispered among excited teens, but she always thought it was some silly prank pulled by the twins for a good laugh. Of course, until her eyes rested on the official information booklet Ginny had so thoughtfully pushed into Hermione's hands.

As Hermione was thinking this, Ginny snatched the poster back, clearly hurt. Immediately regretting her reaction, Hermione rested her hands on Ginny's shoulders reassuringly. "I'm sorry, Gin. I really am. It's just that term's just begun and everything's been a bit hectic lately," Ginny nodded sadly. "But, hey! You know, if you're into this stuff, I guess we could watch it together sometime."

Her friend brightened, but pulled away to look Hermione in the eye. "That's wonderful and all, Hermione, but I think we should join it."

With an attractive snort of disbelief, Hermione burst into laughter. "That's good, really Gin." She said, wiping away tears.

"I'm serious."

Hermione stopped short and gazed at Ginny. She didn't look as if she were lying.

"No. No, Gin. We can't do this. I mean really—"

"But listen Hermione!" The red head interrupted. "It says here," She pointed at the poster. "that 'any witch between the ages of 15 and 21 may enter.' That's you and me, Hermione. You're 17, and I'm 16. We could do this together."

Ginny looked up at Hermione, biting her lip nervously. "Please?"

The bushy-haired witch closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"I guess it wouldn't hurt to try."

_Later…_

"Do people _actually _wear heels this high?"

The duo were at Madam Malkin's, picking out the outfits they would wear for the audition later that day. Ginny had just handed Hermione a pair of black 5-inch velvet pumps and was trying on a pair herself.

Laughing, Ginny slipped on the heels and walked down the aisle gracefully. Hermione stood in awe, thoroughly impressed.

"Now your turn."

Becoming beet red, Hermione staggered into the shoes and clomped down their makeshift runway, tumbling over at the end of it. Giggling, she got up and looked at Ginny.

"I dunno, Ginny. Do you think I'm the next Tyra Banks?"

_Later…_

It was two P.M. The sun was beating furiously down on a brown-haired beauty and a strong-faced ginger. The sidewalk they stood—or rather, hopped in a hot-footed frenzy—on was lined with anxious teenagers in jeans and tank tops.

"Gin. We've been waiting for an hour. Don't you think it would be nice to sit down and have a cup of Butterbeer over in Hogsmeade?"

Though it seemed Ginny was all up for the idea, Hermione could tell she wasn't going to give up so easily. Shaking her head grimly, she peered ahead of the girls in front of the, looking through the holy gateway not too far away.

"Next twenty girls, please," A nasally voice cried out from the front. Ahead, the women happily trotted forward.

"…16, 17, 18…you two! Yeah, the brunette and her friend. Come 'ere! You're the last ones to go in today. Sorry ladies. Come again tomorrow, alright?"

Groans and moans echoed throughout the busy road as tired and sunburnt girls walked home angrily. Ginny squealed happily and tugged on Hermione's hand.

"This is going to be such fun."

_Later…_

Ten minutes had past, and Hermione couldn't even see what was going on in the next room. The nasally woman—whose name she found out was Wendy—had practically locked all but three girls in a sort of cell with uncomfortable couches and foul-smelling air conditioning. Slowly, three more girls would be sent out and evaluated, leaving a few minutes later before anyone could ask any questions. Their faces were expressionless, and it pained Hermione to think what lied behind the white door at the end of the room.

Torture devices, perhaps? Yes, that must be it. How come models are so tall and skinny anyway? They probably stretched them all out on a special height-increasing contraption. _I bet it hurts. _Hermione thought, flinching.

"Alright, you bunch. You're the last group to go, so don't disappoint." Wendy clapped her hands enthusiastically. With a jolt, Hermione realized that there were only three other people in the room; Wendy, Ginny, and a familiar-looking blonde.

"Luna!" Ginny cried out in realization. The blonde looked at her in surprise, obviously not realizing the two were there either.

"Oh, hello there Ginny. You too Hermione. Here to try out for the new modeling competition?" Luna widened her eyes and slapped her forehead. "Of course you are! Why wouldn't you be? Unless you're spying on me, of course." She narrowed her eyes at each of the girls and laughed heartily. "Nope. You're clean. It seems as if the nargles have decided not to infest your brain today."

With a cheery skip, Luna walked out the door and into the mysterious room. Ginny and Hermione shrugged at each other and followed ahead.

What they found there made Ginny well up in tears and Hermione gape in astonishment. Racks and racks of clothes were lined up against the walls of a spacious and sunny studio. Men in turtlenecks and berets lounged around sipping designer coffee and munching on cinnamon rolls. Hundreds of shoes filled up light-filled display cases built into the wall. It truly was a sight to see.

A frazzled-looking young woman, maybe 28 or so, ran up to the threesome, camera dangling from her neck haphazardly. "Hello. Hi. How's it going? My name is Sylvia Stonewater and I'm your photographer for today. All the judges really need is your completed form and a few test pictures of the model. Ready to begin?"

Hermione noted amusedly that this all came out in a rush, as if Miss. Stonewater was used to this kind of fast-paced and action-packed lifestyle. Ginny nodded, a beam upon her face, and handed Sylvia the thick forms we filled out last night. Luna blinked her eyes, wasting a few of Sylvia's _precious _seconds, and pulled a colourful and excessively doodled-on packet. Wendy swooped in and grabbed all three booklets and left, similar to the hunting patterns of a vulture. At least, that's what it reminded Hermione of.

The girls were sent to stations around the room: Station A, where make-up and hair stylists styled them to their liking. Station B, where clothes were shoved in their faces and—Hermione regrets to admit—where they stripped and changed into them then and there. The workers milling around didn't seem to mind one bit. In fact, you could say that they were tired and used to this sort of thing, if that's even possible. Finally, Station C held shoes and accessories that would make even the royal jealous.

After Wendy analyzed the girls and made sure everything was absolutely perfect, she sent them off to have their pictures taken. Ginny, unsurprisingly, did wonderfully, and Hermione imagined she didn't do too bad either. The stylists had tamed her curls and straightened them into what could be presented as actually stylish and modern. The real shock, however, was the way Luna acted in front of the camera. She was a natural.

It was like a switch flipped in her brain when she stepped into the lights. Her pupils increased and made her eyes seem larger than life. Luna's mouth was always slightly open, seeming feminine and fragile. Her poses were creative and out-of-the-box, and Sylvia Stonewater ate it up.

"She's really good," Ginny whispered into Hermione's ear. She nodded silently. "I wonder if we're even good enough to make it in."

Hermione turned to her friend and said in a clear yet quiet voice:

"Only time will tell."

**A/N: So. Do you like it? I dunno. I think my idea's kinda crap, but I felt the need to do it OKAY? Okay then. Well..uhh..reviews! Yes! Please3 :]**

**-whennothinggoeswrite**


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